Birthday
by Elven Heart993
Summary: "Maybe it was what kept him going, the thought that maybe tomorrow he might be happy enough and maybe in time he could learn to laugh the same as he had. But he would never recover completely." Post-Battle one-shot. Rated T to be safe but it's more of a K .


**Birthday**

_Tell me that it's gonna be alright,  
Tell me that you'll help me fight this fight,  
Tell me that you won't leave me alone in this,_

_Cause I need, I need a hand to hold,  
To hold me from the edge,  
The edge I'm sliding over slowly,  
__**Hold- Superchick**_

April 1st 1999.

Nearly one whole year had passed. But George's night had still not passed and it probably never would. Days all blurred into weeks and weeks all blurred into months of nothing.  
Some days were worse than others. There were days he could barely get out of bed, and there were days he felt okay, like he was doing better.

Some days he could smile, some days he couldn't do anything but glare at anyone he met.

Every day, George hurt. Every day, he tried again to cast a Patronus and every day there was only a wispy silver vapour that vanished in little more than a moment. He thought if he could cast it again, it might have changed and he might see Fred's happy silver fox run around the room. But every day for eleven months, there had been nothing.

Maybe it was what kept him going, the thought that maybe tomorrow he might be happy enough and maybe in time he could learn to laugh the same as he had. But he would never recover completely, he knew it deep down, and he strongly suspected that he would never again be able to cast a Patronus as long as he didn't allow himself to be truly happy.

It took months for anyone to even get George to smile. But now he could smile, sometimes it even reached his eyes and was genuine. Not always, but it was something. But George still didn't laugh properly, and when he laughed at all it was obviously forced.

He had tried to reopen the shop and it was far too much for him alone. It just felt wrong without Fred there.

Eleven months, nearly to the day, George had survived. He had struggled and fought and had twice nearly fallen over that terrible edge from which there would be no return. If it hadn't been for Percy and Hermione showing up when they did, there wouldn't even be one twin to turn twenty-one today.

_He had been a little drunk and hurting far too much to be able to think even a little bit rationally the first time it happened. It had been three months since the funeral and he had only moved back into the flat above the shop a week prior. Being there, alone, surrounded by Fred's things, and Fred's ideas finally overwhelmed him and he had started to drink to try and dull the grief that he was barely coherent with when someone knocked at his door. _

_He hadn't registered the door unlocking and Percy calling out his name behind him. All he remembered was one moment his lips were moving and the point of his wand was resting against his temple, and the next moment his wand was flying from his hand and his brother barrelled into him.  
George could remember the angry, terrified shouting that had followed, and the tears in Percy's eyes as George sunk to his knees sobbing. He remembered how scared he felt when Percy shook his shoulders and then crying into his older brother's shoulder. That was the first time he admitted aloud how badly he was losing the fight and how desperately he needed something to hold on to._

xxxXxxx

He hadn't cried today and that surprised him a little. He felt like he wanted to, like at any minute he would burst into sobs and George knew if he cried that first tear today, they wouldn't stop falling. He seemed to have more self-control left than he had thought.

Since early morning, George had been sitting in the same place. It was their birthday and he was going to spend it how he always had. With his twin. His legs were crossed and his jeans stained from the grass on the hillside where Fred was buried, just in sight of the Burrow. So Fred would always able to find his way home, Charlie had said in his eulogy with a tearful voice.

Bill and Fleur had come in the morning, as George had expected they might, and had left fresh flowers, joined by a string of small sea shells, around the headstone.

"_I mean, 'headstone' is kinda insulting when you think about it…it's like when you say someone has rocks in their head. Like you're callin' them really thick."_

George's lips twitched slightly at the memory. Fred had come out with it after a great deal of thoughtful musing at Dumbledore's funeral. He had never thought he would have his own so soon after.  
Fred wouldn't have wanted some soppy, depressing drivel to be inscribed on his grave forever. And so, when George sat vigil graveside all night after the funeral, he had added another line to the inscription and summarised Fred's life in two words.

He now gazed upon the smooth stone which read:

Fred Weasley

1 April 1978 – 2 May 1998

Beloved brother, son and cherished friend.

You died as you lived; laughing.

Mischief Managed.

George drew in a shaking breath and whimpered as he let it out. His eyes were watery and wide but still he tried to hold it back.

"I'm still lost, Fred." He whispered , pulling his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. How had he made it this long? This wasn't living, it was only existing.  
"You'll never be lost. That's why they buried you here…you'll always be close to home. But I still haven't found_ my _way back home yet. Tell me you'll help me find it."

It was the first time he'd worked up the courage and the will to speak all day. His throat was dry and his voice was hoarse but now that he had started…it flooded out.

"Tell me I'll be alright. Sometimes I think I'm okay, or that I will be and then I can't make it through the rest of the day. It's nearly been a year and it feels like you only died yesterday."

George stopped and dropped his forehead onto his knees. His breathing quickened and his head started to spin. His hair had grown out over the hole in the side of his head and he never cared enough to change it. If he felt this bad today, what was it going to be like in May? George needed a drink and he was starting to lament leaving the bottle of Firewhiskey on the table.

He was drinking far more than his family knew he was. Spending most of his nights alone meant it was an easy habit to keep secret for now, as long as none of his family decided to start frequenting the Leaky Cauldron or surprise visits to his door in the night.

It took several minutes to get his breath back and compose himself enough to even lift his head into the dimming light of the evening.  
"I wanna be able to laugh again. I'll never be whole again, but I wish I could be a little happier sometimes. But there's no one to laugh with. There's still no one to put out any fires that start in my hair and then joke about it with me."

"I never thought I'd be depressed on April Fool's Day." George muttered wryly after a long silence. "It's nearly been a whole year since I even joked with anyone." George's stomach growled suddenly but he ignored it and withdrew his wand from the inside of his jacket. Though second hand and cheap to buy, Fred and George had been more fortunate than Ron and Ginny and had the pleasure of having their wands choose them.

xxxXxxx

The day a wizard received his Hogwarts letter was not a day to be forgotten easily.

"_Why isn't Errol here yet?!" _

_Charlie sighed and dropped his head onto the table, making the empty plate in front of him jump. "Maybe because no one should even be up this early…"_

"_Yeah, did you have to wake the whole house?" Nine year old Ron whined, where he was still sulking in his chair at having to get up._

_The twins exchanged a glance and a shrug, their grins nearly burst right off their freckled faces.  
"Well if we couldn't get back to-"_

"_-sleep, then no one else could and-"_

"_-besides we're sure it's going to come today!"_

_Percy grumbled behind his book, even he was still in his pyjamas and looked like he hadn't done much more than roll out of bed when the twins had jumped on him.  
"You've said that every day this week!" He snapped. "Mum, can't you just make them go back to bed next time they do this?"_

_Molly sighed and looked over her shoulder as a pot of tea floated its way to the table. She was trying her hardest to have patience with Fred and George. The pair of them were just as excited as their brothers had been waiting for their Hogwarts acceptance letters, after all, it would pass. That was if the mail ever arrived._

"_Just ignore them, Percy, you were every bit as keen to get your own a few years ago, may I remind you?"_

"_I didn't run around the house and jump on people."_

"_Yes you did." Charlie's muffled voice came from the tabletop, and his words were echoed by a sleepy sounding Bill as he wandered into the kitchen fully dressed to catch the tail end of the conversation._

_At just that moment, a familiar screech came from the open window as Erroll soared through it to land on the table…and promptly slid right off with a panicked hoot in a flurry of feathers. As Bill stooped beside the chair to pick up the bird, Erroll held out his leg expectantly, upon which was tied a neat bundle of letters addressed with the same emerald green ink. _

"_Well look what finally got here, huh?" He grinned toothily at the twins who had both let out great whoops of excitement and teasingly held them above his head. "Are you sure they're for you?"_

_Fred scowled and exchanged a look with George. As one they leapt at Bill who just laughed as he was wrestled to the floor._

_Molly tutted and clapped her hands loudly. "Boys, calm down! There'll be none of that in the kitchen, thank you very much! And Bill, don't you wrinkle those clothes, you have your interview at Gringotts this morning…I think we'll be going into Diagon Alley today so I'd like to see you off there."_

George sighed and turned his wand over in his fingers absentmindedly. It was red oak with unicorn hair, eleven inches and hard. Fred's wand, of larch wood, unicorn hair, eleven and a quarter inches and hard, had been traditionally buried with him. He could still remember the way his wand had given a little jump in his hand when he picked it up and when he waved it experimentally, how he had felt a warmth right in his chest. There wasn't a great range that was affordable for them, and so he and Fred had been delighted to find their perfect match's for their first wands.

"_Red oak with unicorn hair. Eleven inches…hard. That wand is particularly adept at charm work…and a fine dueller's wand. I find red oak finds its true masters in those of speed and quick wit…a good wizard to have on your side."_

"_Cool! I betcha I get one too, George." Fred grinned when it was his turn to try to find the best that he could in the smaller range. _

"_I do enjoy when twins come for their wands." Ollivander watched with keen interest, his old eyes twinkling. "It's very interesting to find out different things about them and, curiously, I have never known identical twins to have wands of matching woods." _

"_Wouldn't it be cool to be the first, Fred?" George grinned, turning over his new wand in his fingers. It was slightly chipped and very obviously used, but he didn't care in the least. Bill had been the only one of the siblings so far to have a real, new wand._

_Several wands in, one emitted a golden trail of stars when Fred waved it, and he was filled with the same sense of excitement that George had been. He found his wand._

_The wandmaker took it with a smile, turned it over in his fingers and made his observations.  
"Larch… as I suspected the core is unicorn hair also. Eleven and a quarter inches…hard. A good, strong wand. You too must have a gift for charms if this wand has chosen you, Mr. Weasley. I had not expected to find someone so suited for this wand, larch…can be a very particular wood and its master is usually one of…unexpected talents and courage." _

"You were always the braver one. Even your wand knew it." Would Fred have been able to move on a little faster than he was? Would he have been able to swallow the hurt and pull himself up again?

George sighed and looked down at the scratched and worn strip of wood in his hand. Sometimes he felt like his wand was just as sad as he was and it probably was…his magic was certainly not what it had been. Even after a year the man's magic was still frequently unstable and gone were the flashy, intricate spells and charms he had once been so talented at. On his better days, it improved considerably, but always fell again when he slipped back. One step forward, two steps back.

George sniffed and tried to swallow another lump in his throat, tossing down his wand and lifting his eyes up to the sky.

xxxXxxx

"Son?"

George jumped, and hastily wiped at his eyes that had filled with fresh tears threatening to finally escape. He turned his head slightly to see his father making his way up to him and looked down at the ground as, with a sigh, Arthur lowered himself to the ground beside his boy.

"I know what you're gonna say…you want to be left alone, I know…" Arthur sighed, planting his feet flat and drawing his knees up to loosely wrap an arm around them as he swallowed a lump of his own. "I don't think you should be any longer. And your mother wouldn't hear of leaving you up here alone for another minute."

George said nothing and just kept staring at the grass, giving no indication he was listening at all to his father.

"You don't need to be alone, you know tha-"

"It's wrong." George suddenly interrupted, his tone was lifeless and his eyes were dull as he fixed his gaze on the grave. He could feel his father's eyes on him as he went on. "Today shouldn't…exist, it's just wrong now."

"I know…" Arthur said softly and gently put his hand on George's shoulder. His blue eyes lingered on the side of George's head where his ear had been cursed off. The first time he could remember either of the twins being so seriously hurt and it had been when they split them up.

He felt guilty every day for splitting Fred and George up on that fateful night, he couldn't help but feel that if they had been together Fred might never have been killed. No parent should ever have to bury their child.

"George, you were doing so well…you know how proud I am of you for that…"

George laughed. It was a short, harsh sound with no mirth in it. "No. No I was never doing well, Dad…don't try to make me feel better. Everyone knows that's not true."

Arthur's lips pressed together into a thin line for a moment and he rubbed his George's shoulder lightly. "Okay…that's why I didn't want to wish you happy birthday. Because I don't know if it will ever be one for you again."

George finally looked up, his eyes full of tears as he met his father's gaze and was suddenly grateful for the company. "…thanks."

The older wizard's heart broke all over again at the look in George's face. He was only half the man he used to be, and might not ever make it all the way back. He looked like that little toddler afraid of monsters under the bed, scared and upset and not at all like the prankster who carried around Ton Tongue Toffees and tried to con Ron into making Unbreakable Vows. He felt his own eyes fill and sniffed as he lowered his hand and looked back at the grave.

"We used to say our birthday presents for each other were….each other and we should be damn grateful 'cause not everyone gets a brother on their birthday every year. Or we'd just end up getting the same things anyway." George choked out and the first tear he managed to shed all day came sliding down his nose. "Now I'm…I'm…"

Without a word, Arthur wrapped his arms around George and pulled his son close to him until his head was resting on his shoulder. George didn't fight it anymore, he let himself be pulled into a warm embrace and leaned on his father as the tears started to fall and whimpers started to turn into quiet sobs.

It was all they could do for George really. Go to him, offer a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen and try to comfort him. There was no doubt that no one else would really know how George felt. Both parents had lost a son, all of the children had lost a brother, but only George had lost an identical twin.

"Shh…" Mr Weasley hushed softly, patting the back of George's flaming red head and drawing in a very shaky breath of his own as he thought of the older of the twins lying gone forever beneath the ground.

For a long time, father and son just sat there together, George crying out everything he had into his father's shoulder and trying to let himself be comforted. Arthur's tears slid silently down his cheeks as he held his boy in silence, rubbing his shoulder and trying to soothe the distraught twin. Eventually George's sobs quietened into whimpers and shaking breaths and he finally lifted his head and wiped his freckled face with the back of his hand.

"I'm older than Fred." He whispered softly. "It's not right."

"No it's not right…" Arthur agreed, giving his son's shoulder one last squeeze before letting him draw away for a bit more space. "Nothing about this will ever be right, my boys."  
The slip of the tongue surprised him, and he was sure George would have noticed he had been addressing both twins but if he did notice, he said nothing.

"But I think you _can _be okay."

"I can't be if I'm alone."

"George, dear…you're not alone." Molly Weasley's voice caused both men to look to the side.

Molly, Percy, Ron and Harry all stood close by wearing equally solemn expressions. It was only right, Ron had announced inside, that they go up there too and be with George and as close as they could get to being with Fred just for a few minutes.

"We're all here, we'll always be here." Percy said, stepping forward and patting George's shoulder. "You've made it this long already."

Surrounded by his brothers and his parents, George slowly pushed himself up to his feet at his father's side to stand with them.

"Oh, almost forgot…" Ron suddenly moved forward and set a small box down at the side of the grave. "I swiped it from your shop…it wouldn't be your birthday without at least one of these somewhere."

He stepped back and, with a flick of his wand, the small box ignited and burst into showers of sparks and stars that popped and crackled merrily as they danced around the family's heads.  
George swallowed a lump and took a shaky breath as he reached out and clapped Ron's shoulder, smiling at him gratefully.  
"Good job, mate…thank you."

The youngest Weasley son let out a breath of relief and held out a small firecracker, offering it to George. "I swiped this from you too. What d'ya say?"

"What is that?" Molly asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she frowned a little suspiciously.

"Oh…" George shook his head and his heart dropped. "No, I-I don't think so...not anymore, Ron."

"Come on…" Ron tried, paying no attention to his mother. "You know you wanna, just a little bit…"

George could almost hear Fred egging him on and urging him to do it. Fred would definitely be keen on the idea…he would probably want George to do it now. He would want a few laughs and smiles, and that was the only thing that made George take the cracker from Ron, albeit a little reluctantly.

"It feels weird."

"And when were you one to shy away from the weird and wacky?"

George chuckled dryly and glanced at his younger brother briefly before looking down at the grave. He was very aware of everyone's eyes fixed on the same point as he took a deep breath.

"This is for you, Freddie."

With those words, he bent at the knees and sprung up, flinging the firecracker as high into the air as he could. It exploded in a grand shower of sparks that mixed and mingled with the stars still dancing around.

There was a collective intake of breath from everyone around him as the bright, sparkling W hovered in the air above their heads. Even Percy was smiling at it. Ron grinned, his blue eyes teary as he heartily clapped George's shoulder.  
"I knew you would."

Everyone lapsed into silence for a long few seconds as they stared at the fireworks that had been a trademark of the twins. Finally, Molly broke the silence from her position against her husband's side who had his arm around her.

"Now you'll come inside and eat with us before you go back, won't you George?"

George nodded slowly and looked around at her. "Yeah…just give me another few minutes."

"Of course, dear…"

He was left alone again as his family gave him the space he needed just for a few more minutes.  
He lifted his wand in the failing light and closed his eyes. He tried to summon every happy memory he could and he had so many to choose from that it was never difficult to think of one. His first Quidditch game at Hogwarts, flying out on Umbridge and compulsory education forever, opening Wheezes, finding their wands and visiting Bill in Egypt with the whole family, all rushed through his mind. He did exactly as Harry had taught them, exactly as he had always tried, and focused on one. He remembered how proud, and thrilled they had been when he and Fred had finally stepped back to look over their finished shop…at their fulfilled dream. He remembered how they raised glasses of Firewhiskey and toasted to that very thing and how perfectly content he was.

"Expecto Patronum…" He murmured as he opened his eyes. A silver stream started to waft from his wand, but it curled and twisted in the air for only a few moments before vanishing.

Unsurprised, George sighed and tucked his wand back up his sleeve and knelt down beside the tombstone. Reaching out, he rested his hand lightly upon it and rubbed the smooth stone with his thumb.

"I hope you're having a happier birthday than I am."


End file.
